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<title>A Soft Sort Of Quiet by Jaskiers_BrokenLute</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702308">A Soft Sort Of Quiet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaskiers_BrokenLute/pseuds/Jaskiers_BrokenLute'>Jaskiers_BrokenLute</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No Dialogue, References to Depression, Sad Jaskier | Dandelion, Short &amp; Sweet, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:54:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaskiers_BrokenLute/pseuds/Jaskiers_BrokenLute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's a quiet sort of good day, which will turn into a star-staring, meditating sort of good night."</p><p> </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, can be read as platonic - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Soft Sort Of Quiet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier gets quiet sometimes, his words few and in between until eventually they're walking, or sitting in silence. </p><p>Often times, this means little more than Jaksier getting tired or running out of things he feels the need to share, sometimes he just wants to listen to the village fade away into the steady fall of foot and hoof down well-worn path. Leaves blown by the wind playing a jaunty tune that he will try to harmonize with when he feels the need to fill the space. </p><p>When the day fells quiet and that feeling drips straight into the night, Jaskier will simply want to rest before he sleeps, relax where he'll remember it instead of the blink of an eye sleep he usually gets. </p><p>He'll sit , staring into the fire as it illuminated his skin into a bright yellow, blushing his face and warming his hands. Or he'll watch the stars, on clear nights, content to lie on his back and start into the vast unknown. Geralt thinks, on these nights that it's something akin to the metatation he sinks into on these very same quiet nights. A time to rest the body and mind silence the days thoughts and simply let yourself be. To exist among the things that on't even know they\re here.  Sometimes they just need to be. </p><p>This is the type of silence Geralt still likes on the path, blessed silence where he doesn't have to worry if it's because Jaskier is hurt of sick, wasting awa to an illness he can't see, only given away by an unnatural silence while it tears life away from the most deserving. </p><p>But when Geralt turns back on these days he sees an easy smile on Jaskiers face as he drinks in the sight of the forests surrounding them, the slightly clouded sky with a sun so perfect Geralt swears he can see every shade of colour in Jaskier's squinting eyes. seeing this, he knows it's simply a quiet day for living without thought, and seeing without needing to share. </p><p>It sparks a light inside of him, to see Jaskier so easily happy. Not excited pt dpwn. not either side of a dangerous spectrum, just content to be.  Somewhoe happy to be here, with him after all thi time and after all he's been put through. Easy like its all okay, like tomorrow it will all give way to good. </p><p>It's enough for him to feel the same lightness in his chest. <br/>There's no overwhelming joy or a tear brought to his eye, it's like his mind is still for a moment, won't wander, won't think of all the travelling ahead or the shit contract a few days past. <br/>It's just the wind on his face, the perfect sun warming his skin, but not making him sweaty under his armour. <br/>He just feels, living in this day, on this path, as they slowly move on. </p><p>It's a quiet sort of good day, which will turn into a star-staring, meditating sort of good night. </p><p>Still, there's another sort of quiet that Jaskier becomes, when his chest is no longer light and filled with sunny air that rattles leaves into music, but a heavy; rock-tied-to-your-ankle-in-a-lake sort of sinking quiet. <br/>Quiet where you wish you could scream but there's something there in your throat holding it all down until your practically drowning in it, begging for air, some sort of sound worth making.<br/>The sort of quiet broken up by scuffs of boots where your mind was too lost to watch where you step, by sniffles and chewing on lips, picking at nails, nearly silent sounds so loud they make you jump. </p><p>The days spent on this side of the quiet path arent spent feeling the breeze of being, existing in time, but thinking of the ache in your feet so thoroughly that the smallest prick of pain becomes unbearable, how long you have left to walk on those agonizingly hurt feet, how little you slept the night before and how little you'll get tonight, adding it all up until you're so frustrated you could kick and scream but knowing if you open your mouth you'll shatter. </p><p>He's quiet as he walks, not listening or looking for the perfect sun that now burns his already stinging eyes, and he walks but doesn't smile, hips lips too busy holding back the clawing and begging inside his throat. <br/>Geralt sees and wishes for a guilty moment that he'd never brought Jaskier along, because surely, he wouldn't be sad if he weren't here. </p><p>Though of course, quiet days come without thought of where you are. Some nights, Jaskier simply feels quiet, when he'll roll on his side, stare into the darkness and wallow, terrified that this is the time it stays, that he'll wake up and the prospect of moving makes him want to rip his hair out. </p><p>The rational part of him can't tell him it's only some days, that if he'd only look up there's a sky full of stars just waiting for him to wander into them. </p><p>So, tonight he'll curl in on himself, probably he'll cry, nothing but the faint scent of salt and the shaking of his shoulders to give away the not agony but certainly feels like it in the moment breaking. </p><p>Geralt doesn't meditate on these sort of gloom and humid quiet nights. The nights where the silence is so stifling you could choke on it. </p><p>He watches Jaskier and wonders what he could have gone wrong during the day to possibly make Jaskier hurt, what he could have done right. </p><p>On these nights he waits, because he knows eventually Jaskier will break, not the type of man who can pretend not to feel without shattering in the end. </p><p>He sits in silence and ponders of the day slowly disappearing, he'll wonder what tomorrow will look like, dread it for a moment before he accepts that tomorrow will probably look exactly as it always has, the only variable being what kind of day it will be. </p><p>If Jaskier drifts off to sleep before the dam breaks and all the day comes seeping out of his tired bones, tomorrow will be another gray, quiet day, possibly ending early when Jaskier can't hold the sadness down any longer. </p><p>If he cries, and the tears release his melancholy, tomorrow will be a loud, Jaskier finding himself again, day, just to prove that he's still there. A day filled with singing and shouting, mouth running off on its own down any trail it deems fit, often quicker than his brain can account for, leaving him rambling and blabbering on and on about the clouds or a ballad he'd heard a decade ago that he just can't quite remember.  He'll whine about the state of his shoes, about his sore legs and dry throat, he'll practically beg to stop in a village, remind Geralt of his burning need for an audience, an ale, and a warm bed to sleep in. </p><p>Geralt will spend some hard earned coin on a room in an inn so that Jaskier can rest, making sure the next day isn't a bad sort of quiet, and it doesn't hurt that he gets a steaming bath and hot meal out of it. </p><p>So now, as the stars lay abandoned in the sky, Jaskier's shoulders begin to shake and Geralt is almost relieved. As much as he hates to see Jaskier cry, he knows it means that the bad day is almost over, that this, as it always does, will end. <br/>Most bad days Jaskier needs a bit more convincing of this fact. <br/>Geralt will take on his role as easy as slipping into his armour, laying next to Jaskier and wrapping the man in his arms, not closing him in yet, knowing that in only a few moments the bard will roll around and hide his face in Geralt's chest. </p><p>His shirt grows wet with tears, his arms holding Jaskier together as the needed falling apart plays out. The tears will eventually dry, just as they always do, and a new sort of quiet will begin. <br/>When they lay there, wrapped up in eachother's arms, giving and taking comfort as needed, let it be a warm hand running up and down a quivering back, fingers intertwined or mere proximity, they bid the heavy silence farewell, a quick see you around, and replace it with a soft sort of silence. Silence that does not demand to be broken, but is delicate, can be broken as easily as waters surface under a fingertip. It leaves you laying stock still lest you loose the moment you wish could last forever. Where it is simply Jaskier wrapped in Geralt's arms, Geralt holding Jaskier, and Roach, sleeping just as silently across the field. </p><p>Blessed silence. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You can also find this/me on tumbler here: https://jaskiersbrokenlute.tumblr.com/post/630530697954787328/a-soft-sort-or-quiet-geraskier-fic</p></blockquote></div></div>
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